Let It Snow
by meemalee
Summary: Set in London, six months after the series finale. Detty.
1. Chapter 1 - Just Good Friends

_For the Ugly Betty Holiday Advent Calendar over on LJ's the __Bachelor and the Butterfly_, here is my first attempt at fanfiction (I usually write about food). Always been an Ugly Betty fan, but earlier this year was very ill in hospital and, when convalescing, I watched every episode back to back. This is sort of the result. Please forgive any errors, especially American-isms - I'm from London. Oh, and this is for entertainment purposes only...

* * *

_Oh, the weather outside is frightful  
__But the fireplace is so delightful  
__And since we've no place to go  
__Let it snow let it snow let it snow_

"Did you hear the radio this morning? They said conditions were 'Arctic'. I'm thinking they have zero idea what the Arctic is actually like".

Such were Daniel's musings as he lay on the couch in Betty's cramped office, coffee cup balanced precariously on his stomach. Dressed like a college boy in his sweater and black Vans, he looked younger than his 37 years; his hair was getting long and slightly shaggy, and he'd definitely begun to re-grow his Beard of Sorrow, though as far as Betty knew, nothing concrete was bothering him.

Betty closed her laptop and looked at Daniel with her usual mixture of annoyance, fondness, amusement, and … something else which she couldn't quite pin down, which had been cropping up more and more often lately.

"And, oh my God, the Tube was totally screwed – it took me half an hour longer to get over here", he continued. "They should see what a _real_ winter is like. _Ten_ flakes of snow and it's like 'Call out the National Guard".

At this, Daniel suddenly got up, almost spilling the coffee, "Hey, do they even have a National Guard here?"

"Daniel", Betty began, "As much as I'm enjoying your commentary on the inclement weather in London, isn't there somewhere you have to be? Like a class? I really need to finish this piece by lunchtime before everyone gets Royal Baby-ed out".

"No classes today – the tutor couldn't get in because of 'snow on the line' - you have me _all_ to yourself today", and his eyes twinkled at her as he took another sip from his coffee.

Daniel had been enjoying his marketing diploma so far, and had been doing surprisingly well, but a legitimate excuse to play hooky was fine by him.

"Fine, well, can you be quiet for a little longer? I'm almost done" and she rebooted her laptop to resume pecking at the keys.

"So what angle are you taking?" he suddenly asked. "You're Betty Suarez, not Suzuki St Pierre. So I'm assuming there'll be no seedy speculation about how Prince Harry might help?"

"What? No! Of course not", Betty said testily, "And what do you mean by that anyway?"

"You know … the old cure for morning sickness? Ginger? As in, ginger Harry?"

"Ew, no – that's gross, Daniel. Are you five years old? Never mind – don't answer that. If you must know, it's a piece about hyperemesis gravidarum. As in, the serious condition which Kate is suffering from, and which has seen her be hospitalised. The mass media has done her a horrible disservice by lazy reporting, and I want to set that right. It's not just 'morning sickness' – it even killed Charlotte Bronte!"

"How do you know that?" asked Daniel, "Surely everyone died of consumption in those days?"

"It's just something I know". The words slipped out, and suddenly Betty felt odd and cold, though Daniel just laughed and lay back down on the couch.

Truth be told, Betty hadn't thought once about Henry since that Thai meal before Hilda's wedding when they'd agreed to part as friends, aside from noticing that his Facebook said he was back 'in a relationship'. What had really made her shiver was the thought that she hadn't _been_ with anyone, or even considered it, for longer than she cared to remember.

"You know what else is retarded about this country? Apart from the fact that we can't use the word 'retarded', or 'spazz', without getting in trouble?"

Betty sighed, though his interruption was a welcome distraction from her lack of love life. "No, Daniel – what else is retarded about this country?"

"They don't have half and half. Hell, they don't even have heavy cream. The closest you can get is by mixing whole milk and something called whipping cream. The fat percentages are all over the place", and he screwed up his face whilst staring at his now-empty polystyrene cup.

Betty couldn't help but smile. "Since when have you been so knowledgeable about our international dairy disparity?"

"Since I got Food Network. Hey, I needed to find something to do in between classes. It's great – I've even learnt a few tricks and you know I make a mean spaghetti and meatballs now. Man (or woman in your case) cannot live on takeout alone, Betty."

Another sigh, and Betty clicked her laptop shut once more. "I miss my Papi's cooking like you wouldn't believe… Oh God, this isn't happening and you're making me hungry. C'mon - let's grab an early lunch".

Daniel punched the air softly, glad to have worn Betty down as she got up and pulled on her magenta coat – the coat she'd been wearing when he'd waylaid her in Trafalgar Square six months ago to say sorry and to start over. As she fastened the buttons, she caught him staring at her with a look on his face that she couldn't quite identify but she'd been seeing a lot lately.

Just as quickly, the look was gone, and Daniel said cheerfully, "You craving Mexican then? We could go to Lupita?"

"No, it's not the same and their salsa gives me gas – what I _really_ want is one of Papi's breakfast burritos, and no one here does anything like it".

Daniel made a face, remembering Ignacio's fruitless attempt to feed him the first time he visited Betty's house. And then he remembered that that _wasn't_ the first time he'd visited – the _first_ time was when he apologised for humiliating Betty at that doomed Philippe Michel photo-shoot.

He smiled ruefully, thinking he'd had to say sorry to Betty a _lot_ in all the years they'd known each other. Lucky for him she was a forgiving person.

As they walked out the building side by side, Daniel reflected on just _how_ lucky he was that Betty had been willing to let him back into her life, even if it wasn't quite the way he wanted. But really, whose fault was that? He'd asked her out (sort of), she'd given him an awkward not-quite Betty hug, and then somehow they'd stayed firmly in the Best Friend Zone, and he'd been too chicken to try anything since.

To his eternal satisfaction, Betty had at least been too busy with launching and then running IGNITE to date anyone else, so he'd been her default plus-one at the many networking dos she'd had to attend. In fact, that very evening they were going to some charity event which IGNITE was co-sponsoring – Daniel had even got himself fitted for a stylish, new, thin-lapelled Prada suit in this season's midnight grey to make sure he dazzled as her arm-candy.

"Hey, you've got your fishy face on!" teased Betty. "I know, let's go to Hazuki and you can get your sashimi platter and pretend like you're a model".

"Whatever - so long as I never have to wear a school uniform again. Those shorts really chafed", laughed Daniel as they strolled along the Strand.


	2. Chapter 2 - Turning Japanese

There was no getting away from the fact that London was fairly grey on any given day, but now as winter approached, it was positively dingy. But there was still something about it that Betty found impossibly romantic. Maybe it was the thought that so many poets and authors she admired had walked these very streets, maybe the fact that all the architecture was so alien yet so beautiful and so very, very old.

They passed the Oscar Wilde monument which Betty never failed to brush with her fingers, even when there was (as now) a small and rowdy child furiously trying to ride the thing. "We are all in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars" was inscribed at its foot, and for Betty, that was as good a motto as any.

The waitress led them upstairs and Daniel asked for a carafe of plum wine ("Hey, it's not me who has to go back to work"), Betty a peculiar yoghurt drink called Calpico that she'd become quite fond of. After a cursory flick through the rest of the menu, Daniel ordered his usual model plate, but Betty spent a while longer before plumping for the tonkatsu – a schnitzel-like dish, and the closest thing to rib-sticking that the restaurant had to offer.

"Talking of lost in translation, I'll never forget the day Sally asked me if I thought I was in Mary Poppins" (Sally was the receptionist at Dunne).

"I mean, I totally thought you were meant to say 'love' at the end of every sentence, till she pointed out that 'only cabbies and florists speak like that'. Oh, and of course Christina, but then she's Scottish. _God_, I miss her".

"When _was_ the last time you saw Christina?" Daniel asked as he poked at a raw shrimp and then dipped it in soy.

"Not since the summer when she came down with William and Stuart. And of course now she's expecting again, so God only knows when I'll next see her. And NO, I won't be throwing her a baby shower".

"Wouldn't dream of suggesting it – she'd probably want some special haggis dumplings flown in", joked Daniel, "And for a guy who once had a terminal illness, Stuart's awfully fertile".

At that, Betty reached forward to give him a playful shove, only to knock over her drink. Her face reminded Daniel of that first day when she walked into the glass meeting-room wall, and he was struck by the urge to pull her into his arms and hold her tight.

"How is it that I'm still such a klutz?" Betty fretted as she used her napkin to mop at the table and her skirt. But her attention was soon diverted to the other side of the room where an old Japanese man had begun to make weird, strangled noises.

"Daniel – I think, I think that poor man is choking. Somebody do something! Call 911, I mean 999!"

Daniel stood up and rushed over to the man and got behind him as if to hug him.

Moments later, an unidentifiable object flew in an arc across the room, and the Japanese man immediately began to look better.

After participating in a lot of deep bowing with both the man and a waitress who'd been flapping hysterically at the side ("hontou ni tasukarimashita", the old man kept saying), Daniel returned to his seat, looking pale but considerably relieved.

"How did you do that? How, how - how did you know what to do?" stammered Betty in shock.

Daniel shrugged and pursed his lips. His blue eyes shimmered in the same way they did when he signed Betty's release form all those months ago.

"When … Molly was ill, I felt so out of control, so … so helpless. There was nothing I could say, and nothing I could do to stop what was happening to her. So … I … I took a class. Learnt all the basics – CPR, Heimlich manoeuvre. It was worth it if it meant that, that I could maybe … save someone. Even if I couldn't save her".

Betty reached for his hand and held it tight. Just when she thought she knew everything about him, Daniel still managed to surprise her. He looked startled, but squeezed her hand back and stared quietly at her with those pools of blue.

Betty had never seen anyone be so … so heroic. Not even when Henry jousted with Nick Pepper for her honour. Daniel had been so calm, and so collected – he'd known exactly what to do and had done it without any fuss.

All of a sudden, Betty wished she had someone like that to look after her, to take care of her and to be her permanent knight in shining armour.

And Daniel - he'd looked so strong, and so handsome, and so sexy as he took control and … no, no, no, no, NO, what the hell was she thinking?

Her face flooded with warmth as she realised where her thoughts were leading her, and she felt disgusted with herself. After all, Daniel had just been talking about his wife – his dead wife – he was a WIDOWER – she'd arranged their wedding!

And sure, he was cute and had a nice jawline, but he was her best friend – her BEST FRIEND.

No, it must be hormones – she hadn't gotten any in such a long time that she was just seeing Daniel in the same way a starving man might view a pork chop.

As she flailed into self-recrimination, she suddenly noticed that Daniel had started to stroke the back of her hand very gently. His touch was enough to send her over the edge, and she flinched as if she'd been burned.

Pushing her chair back so abruptly that she knocked over Daniel's carafe, Betty ran down the stairs and straight out the restaurant, leaving Daniel confused and dripping.


	3. Chapter 3 - Sister Act

_Thank you so much for reading, everyone, and for your awesomely kind reviews! Particularly pleased to hear from Betty the Bonita and TMadison who are my Detty heroes :)_

* * *

After he'd paid the bill (he'd insisted, though the restaurant had tried to refuse in view of his gallantry), Daniel picked up Betty's coat and purse that she'd left behind in her hurry and went after her.

As he walked into the Dunne lobby and towards Betty's office, he saw Lindsay himself coming in the opposite direction.

"Hi Lindsay, is Betty here?" asked Daniel wearily.

"Oh yes, she seemed in a terrible rush as she zoomed past me, but then I suppose that's why I hired her – always bursting with fire and energy, that one. Go on, go straight through – but then, I suppose you don't need my permission, do you?"

"Thanks Lindsay", he sighed.

A clack-clacking noise started up as soon as he grabbed Betty's door handle, which implied that she was hard at work on her article, but unfortunately for her, Daniel knew better. As he entered her office, he saw she was hunched down over her laptop, staring straight at the screen.

"Um, Betty", he began. "I think you might need this", and he reached into her bag and waved the pass-key at her which let her access her work laptop. She looked up at him like a deer caught in headlights and then snatched the pass-key from him and commenced typing for real.

"Betty. What the hell just happened there?" Daniel began again. "I mean, I save a guy's life, and then I open my soul to you, and you have some kind of conniption, and you run out on me. Oh, and my pants are covered in wine".

"Nothing happened, Daniel – I just realised how late it was and how important it was for me to finish this damn article", and she continued to tap away.

"So important that you left your bag and your coat in the restaurant?"

_Tap-tap-tap._ "You know what I'm like when I get an idea in my head. And sorry about your pants – I'll pay for dry-cleaning".

"It's okay, you don't have to. I need to drop some stuff round anyway. So, um, are we good?"

"Yes, of course, why wouldn't we be?" _Tap-tap-tap._ "Daniel, thank you for bringing my things and I hate to be rude, but can you just leave? I really need to get this done".

"Ohhh-kay. So - I'll pick you up at 7 then?"

At this, Betty looked up at him, and he swore her eye twitched before she continued to type. "You know, Daniel, I haven't finished this article, and there's two more pieces I need to file before the end of the day, plus I haven't updated the website in a week, and God knows the last time I updated my own blog. I think we should just pass on tonight – it's not that big a deal anyway".

"It _is_ a big deal, young lady" interrupted Lindsay from the doorway. "You know very well that I'm wining and dining some advertisers tonight, so _you_ need to be there to represent not just IGNITE, but Dunne Publications as a whole. Daniel, pick her up at 7, and Betty, make sure you have your best frock on – _please_ don't either of you let me down", and he turned on his heel and walked off.

Daniel smirked, "I guess you better do what the boss says. I'll see you at 7".

Defeated, Betty nodded quickly and he grinned, hung up her coat, and left her to it.

As she watched him walk out the door, Betty found herself gazing at his backside a little too closely, before she gave herself a mental slap and then buried her face in her desk.

"Oh God oh God oh God oh God what the hell is wrong with me?" she muttered to herself, when Sally popped her head in and chirped, "Amanda Tanen-Sommers-Cannon on line 1, Betty".

Betty grabbed her phone – maybe Amanda could talk some sense into her. Well, obviously not, but at least she'd provide some sort of diversion.

"Heeeeey B. How's my little Puerto Rican bonita chiquita doing across that big old pond?"

"Amanda, hi. You _know_ I'm Mexican, and London is just dandy. What do you want? Isn't it like, 8 am, there?"

"There's no need to shout, you grumpy bunny. I can hear you just fine. And it may be a little early, but I couldn't _wait_ to share my good news with my furry BFF. Can you switch on your Skype – we need webcam for the full effect?"

Betty loaded up the program. "O-kayy, Amanda. I'm switching over now. This better be worth it".

As soon as the video started, Amanda thrust her left hand into shot. "Four carat diamond, princess cut! All the other bitches can eat it! Bettylicious boo - say HELLOOO to the future Mrs Meade!"

Betty's heart jumped into her mouth. She thought it was over between them - Daniel had never said anything – when would he have had the chance to? – this didn't make any sense at all.

"B, are you still there? You've gone wicked pale – I mean, as pale as a short, brown person can get. Betty?"

The camera wobbled as Amanda went out of shot. "Tyler? TYLER! Put down that damned doughnut and get your sexy ass over here – I think I've killed Betty".

Suddenly both Tyler and Amanda appeared onscreen, Tyler with crumbs around his mouth.

"Hey Betty. You okay? Think my fiancée might have given you a bit of shock. I know Amanda and I haven't been together all that long, but you're cool with us getting married, right?" and he wiped his face lazily with the back of his hand.

Betty felt herself flush crimson. "Hiiiii Tyler. Of course I'm cool – I'm more than cool – I'm so cool I'm ice cold about you guys getting married" and she tried to high-five the camera like a dork.

"Oh yay, B! Because I totally want you to be my matron-of honour!" squealed Amanda, "Because everyone knows you can't have the bridesmaids outshining the bride! Oh, I'm going to look so, so pretty standing next to you!" and she clasped her hands together with joy.

"Thanks, Amanda", Betty grimaced, "Look, I'll talk to you later, okay, bye" and she ended the call, so she could bury her face in her desk once more.

xXxXx

Ten minutes passed, and her desk was beginning to feel awfully hard and cold. Betty lifted her head, pink Post-It note stuck to her cheek, and began to dial.

"Hellooo, Hilda's Beautilities".

"Oh Hilda, thank God you're awake. I need to talk to you",

"Oh hi Betty! Listen, you know how Papi's been seeing more and more of Elena? Well, I really think he's about to - ".

"Sorry Hilda, but this really can't wait. Okay, don't flip out, but I think I might like Daniel".

"Whaaaat? Like LIKE like? You think you might like your sexy, handsome, wealthy, available best friend who also happens to be a great kisser? Someone call Geraldo – this is earth-shattering stuff!"

"HILDA. This is not funny. Daniel is… _Daniel._ And I'm _me_. And never the twain shall meet or whatever that saying is."

"What's that supposed to mean? You think he might not like you? You've really got your head stuck up your butt if you think that that's true."

"No. Yes. No. I mean, even if he _did_ like me, and I'm not saying he does, he's my best friend. We have no secrets – I know how many women he's slept with - I've seen the mole on the back of his ass".

"And what woman hasn't?"

"Not helping, Hilda".

"Sorry, mami, go on".

"Like I said, it would just be too weird. How can you go from being friends to … more than friends? It's practically incest".

"Sweetie, listen to me. Do you remember the day I married Bobby? And the speech that I made? I said it then, and I'll say it again – I married my best friend and it was the best thing I ever did".

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Santos and I – we had crazy chemistry and so, so much passion (God, _so_ much passion), but in the end, the reason we didn't stay together is because we just weren't friends. You and Daniel – you're the best friends I know. I can't think of a better foundation for a relationship".

"But Hilda, if he likes me so much, why hasn't he said anything? Or tried to make a move?"

"Get a clue, Betty - the guy crossed an ocean for you. How much more of a fairytale do you need?"

"He didn't come to London for me. He came because he wanted a fresh start".

"You and I both know that's not true. Mami, he could have gone anywhere – he chose to follow you. And have you forgotten his freaking final Letter from the Editor? He might as well have hired a sky-writer like you did – only this time saying 'Daniel loves Betty'.

Sweetie, I need to go – my first customer has just come in – but you call me later tonight, ok? And don't go doing anything stupid".

It was true that Betty had forgotten about the last letter Daniel had written as Editor in Chief of Mode. The first time she'd read it, she'd run the whole scale of emotions – from anger, to outrage, to shock, to disbelief, to embarrassment. He hadn't bothered to come to her party to say goodbye, yet here he was making all sorts of weird insinuations in public, like a lovesick schoolboy, and she couldn't think of anything more unwelcome. It hadn't helped that the next day Claire Meade had sent her an email, no text, just the subject line "Theory confirmed" and a link to said Letter from the Editor.

And then she'd heard that he'd officially stepped down from Mode, and she was mortified that people might put two and two together and think that _she_ was the reason, and she even began to dread the thought of him turning up on her doorstep.

Then a month later, he sort of did, and well, no wonder she felt awkward. Thankfully though, it seemed he really was here just to make amends, and everything went back to the way it used to be, and she began to suspect that the letter (which he never mentioned) was the simple result of self-pity, a bottle of whiskey, and Wilhelmina turning a blind eye.

Of course, _now_, six months later, she sort of wished that he _had_ meant it. Didn't she?


	4. Chapter 4: Everybody Walk the Dinosaur

6.30pm, and Betty was sitting on her bed in a haze of mild panic. She wore a flattering purple dress that Christina had sent her especially for tonight, but was beginning to wonder if its neckline was a little _too_ flattering.

"Breathe, Betty", she said to herself, as she tried to straighten her unruly hair. "You can do this. He's just Daniel, your old boss, and your best friend. You managed to work right by his side for four whole years without being remotely attracted to him, so why on earth would you want to be his morning bagel now?"

_Ding-dong! _He was early. She dropped the tongs on the dressing table and yelled, "In a minute! I'm not decent!"

Running to her closet, she grabbed an old velvet shawl, wrapped it around tightly her chest and opened the door.

Her mouth dropped open a little when she saw him. Daniel had shaved and had a haircut, and, combined with his new Prada suit, he looked incredible. He clutched a small posy of pink Gerbera daisies, and seemed hesitant.

"Can I … can I come in? I'm sorry I'm early – I thought the Tubes would be screwed again", and he held out the bouquet to her.

Betty was touched that he'd remembered her favourite and, for a moment, she forgot how flustered she was. "You've never bought me flowers before. Well, aside from that orchid you tried to take back off of me".

"First time for everything", Daniel said, and he had that look in his eyes again, plunging Betty back into skittishness. "You look great, by the way".

Great. That word again. "Smooth, Daniel", he thought to himself, "Way to give a compliment. How about amazing, stunning, gorgeous, breath-taking? You go for great. Tool".

An awkward silence arose, as Betty found a vase for the flowers.

"Okay, let's do this bitch", she said with false bravado, and she made for the door.

"Uh, Betty", said Daniel, gesturing to the dressing table. "I think you need to switch your hair tongs off?"

"Oh. Ha. Yeah. Wouldn't want a repeat of last year, would we?"

Turning off the tongs, Betty laughed nervously, and she ushered Daniel out the door.

xXxXx

Rain battered against the cab windows, and Betty was hyper-conscious of two things – (1) her hair was going to frizz up like nobody's business, and (2) Daniel's right thigh seemed awfully close to hers. It was like she could feel the heat radiating off him, and this was making her both uncomfortable and giddy.

"Snap out of it, Suarez", she said to herself, "It's just Daniel. You've rolled lint off that leg."

Daniel's thoughts were similar, though he'd long stopped seeing Betty as 'just Betty'. The only thing stopping him from sweeping her into a kiss was that Betty was too good for a fumble in the back of a cab. That, and the fact that he was a grade A coward, terrified that any romantic overtures from him would nix the relationship that they already had.

So the awkward silence continued till they pulled up in front of the venue – the Natural History Museum in South Kensington.

"That'll be £17, love", said the cab driver, and Betty went to pull out her purse, but Daniel grasped her arm to stop her. Oh! The spark Betty felt as they touched was almost palpable.

She giggled at the sensation, before she was hit again by the realisation that it was D_aniel _that made her feel like that, and then she squawked hysterically.

Daniel gave her a puzzled smile and handed a twenty to the cab driver ("Keep the change") before getting out and opening Betty's door.

"Seriously, Betty, what is with you today?" he asked as she stepped out of the cab.

"I, er, didn't manage to grab lunch - I'm feeling light-headed".

"You did. You had that schnitzel thing. Before my act of heroics?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Daniel, do you really have to question everything I do?" she huffed, and she strode into the venue without him.

xXxXx

Even on an ordinary day, the Museum was something to behold, with its beautiful fossilized columns and marbled floors, not to mention the imposing diplodocus skeleton which just happened to greet you as you entered. But the party planners had outdone themselves for tonight's event, and said dinosaur was now the centrepiece of a veritable winter wonderland.

Betty stopped to marvel at the silken drapes etched with myriad snowflakes and the delicate ice sculptures which served only to enhance the existing exhibits, and she sighed a small sigh of contentment.

"Betty!" yelled a voice at the other end of the room, jolting her from her reverie, "Betty! I'm been waiting for you to arrive!"

Pushing through the crowd of party-goers was someone Betty hadn't seen for almost a year: Matt Hartley holding two glasses of wine and wearing the biggest, most hopeful grin she had ever seen on his face.

"Matt?" she said, dumbfounded, as he handed one of the glasses to her and bussed her on the cheek.

"Matt!" squeaked Daniel, who had caught up with Betty and was debating whether to drag her away, "What brings you to London? Don't you have people to help in Malawi?"

"It's Botswana, actually", said Matt, "And the project out there is doing just fine without me, which is a good thing considering that I've decided to relocate".

"Relocate?" said Betty blankly, "You _live_ here?"

"Well, I went back to New York first to meet Tyler – which reminds me, we share a _brother_ now, Daniel – and to sort some stuff out with my parents. And then I found out where you had gone so I – well, I came after you. You know, Betty", and he laughed ruefully, "I kinda hoped you'd still be waiting for me".

Betty's mouth opened and shut like a goldfish.

"It's okay, Betty, we can make up for lost time now – we have a lot to talk about", and he took her by the shoulder and tried to steer her away from the hubbub, and more importantly, Daniel.

Talking of which - "What do you think you're doing, Hartley?" shouted Daniel after them, "Betty doesn't want to see you any more".

"Forgive me, Daniel," scoffed Matt as he kept steering a stunned Betty, "but I think what Betty wants is rather up to Betty to decide".

"Really? You waltz back into Betty's life after leaving her broken-hearted, and think you can just pick up right where you left off?"

Matt stopped and turned, "Look, I appreciate your concern for Betty, I do, but this really isn't any of your business, Daniel, although God knows you've always tried to make Betty's personal life your business."

"I'm just trying to protect her from making another mistake, Hartley. You had your chance and you blew it, and Betty moved on long ago, so why don't you get the hell out of both our lives?"

"Moved on? GOD, how could I have been so blind? You're not here for a new start at all, are you, Daniel? You came here for the same reason as me. You came to London for Betty. Are you – are you together now? Is that it? Were you just waiting for me to leave?"

"Matt, you don't know what you're talking about", Betty murmured, as the crowd began to gather round them, enthralled by the spectacle.

"In fact, did you even wait for me to leave? I was right all along, wasn't I? I can't believe you acted so innocent when you were already sleeping together!" cried Matt, "Man, I totally ought to have punched you first".

At this, Daniel saw red. "You son of a bitch, Hartley", he yelled as he charged straight at Matt.

Letting go of Betty's shoulder and dropping his wineglass, Matt tried his best to dodge the attack, but Daniel's angry momentum was far too great, and the two of them toppled backwards - right into the tail of the diplodocus skeleton which broke off with a hideous crunch.

A couple of minutes later, security guards came running. "Right, you two gentlemen are coming with us", one of them barked, and, ignoring Matt and Daniel's feeble protests, they picked them up and dragged them away.

As the scandalized crowd dispersed around her, Betty threw her head in her hands. "Hell of a party, Suarez", she said to herself, "Lindsay will be so pleased".


	5. Chapter 5 - Agony Uncle

_Thank you for the lovely reviews - hope you enjoy this next instalment..._

* * *

Back at her flat, Betty dialled. "Pick up pick up pick up pick up – oh hi – Hilda? I need your advice!"

"Wrong sex, my little chimichanga – it's your possibly elder but definitely better Mister Marc St James".

"Marc? What the – why are you picking up Hilda's phone?"

"For your information, Betty, I was invited over to help Justin run through some lines for an audition. You know – Justin? Your super-talented yet incredibly sensitive nephew who you chose to abandon for the bright lights of ye olde London town?"

"Shut up, Marc, and get Hilda on the phone".

"Oh ok, I get it – is it _your time of the month_?" Marc dropped to a stage whisper. "I mean, I suppose you are *technically* a woman, despite the unnecessary excess of body hair".

"Marc, so help me God, if you don't get my sister right now, I'll tell everyone about your secret shrine to Michael Bolton".

"Shhhhhhh", hissed Marc down the phone. "God, what an ugly threat, Betty - England has made you so _mean_. Anyway, it's just little old me here right now – Hilda's out with Bobby, and Justin's gone to hand in an assignment. Soooo," his tone turned conciliatory, "tell Uncle Marc what's wrong."

Betty sighed. "Fine. But don't make fun of me or tell anyone else, Marc – my threat still stands."

"My perfectly pert lips are sealed".

"So", Betty cleared her throat. "I think I may have feelings for Daniel".

"Noooooo!" gasped Marc in mock astonishment. "FINALLY, Betty. I know you're far from being a genius, but we were wondering when that particular penny would drop. There's a reason I was constantly calling you two LOVAHS."

"Look, whatever you might think, Marc, this is a new development".

"For you, maybe, but junior Meade has been wanting to get on that dumpy ride for a while now – helloooo Letter from the Editor".

"Fine, so maybe he was interested in me six months ago, but he certainly isn't now, and that's not even my only problem".

"We'll get back to Daniel, but this is getting more and more interesting – go on".

"So Matt Hartley's back. As in, here in London, rather than saving people in Africa".

"Hartley? Is back? There in London? Rather than in Africa?"

"Are you going to listen or are you just going to repeat everything I say?"

"Oh no, I'm listening. I just can't get over the soap opera that constantly revolves around you. You know Betty, life is so BORING without the badly-dressed chaos you provide".

"MARC".

"Okay, okay. So Daniel-lite aka Meade 2.0 is in town, and I'm assuming that that cheeky young fella is there so he can re-swoop you off your feet?"

"Well, Daniel sort of swept _him _off his feet tonight".

"What?" Marc said with delight. "Is _that_ why you're so certain Daniel doesn't like you – is he finally playing for the winning team?"

"No, no, they argued, and then Daniel kinda went for him and then they crashed into the dinosaur's tail".

"Well, _that's_ a euphemism I'm not familiar with".

"Look, the details don't matter. What does matter is that Matt's come back for me just when I think I might like Daniel - and Daniel … well, Daniel is being Daniel".

"You mean, over-protective and emotionally constipated?"

"Yes. So what do I do?"

"What do you do? I thought you were made of stronger stuff than that, Betty. What you _do_, Madam, is you get on out there and you tell Hartley to vamoose, scram, hit the road, and then you go grab hold of Daniel's hand and you smooch and you hug and you go to Pottery Barn and do whatever it is that you heteros do".

"It's not as simple as that, Marc".

"Sure it is. Anyway, Justin's back now, so I need to go – okay, thanks, bye bye Betty, take care, bye bye".

_Click._ "Wait, Marc – let me talk to Justin – oh for the love of…"

Betty put down the phone and groaned. It was her own fault for being dumb enough to imagine that Marc would be of any use at all.

She took off her shoes and her earrings, threw her shawl on the dressing table (good thing she'd switched off her tongs), and flung herself face down on the bed.

xXxXx

Twenty minutes later, after a dream where Matt and Daniel pulled and pulled at her arms till they stretched like the rope in a tug-of-war, Betty woke to a frantic knocking on her door.

"Betty? Betty, let me in. I need to talk to you", said a muffled voice.

"Betty's not in", she yelled back.

"Betty! Come on, we really need to talk".

She got up from the bed, and peered out the spy-hole. It was Matt, sporting a black eye and a huge bunch of roses.

Betty sighed, undid the chain and opened the door.

At that exact moment, Daniel was coming up the stairs, taking them two at a time (the elevator was out of order). But as he got to the top, he saw Matt go in, so, quietly, he turned and he went back the way he came.


	6. Chapter 6 - Sons and Daughters

_Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews! Wish I could respond individually, but I'm having Internet issues and I'm posting each part on my phone as it is. This is the penultimate chapter - enjoy and have a fantastic Christmas Eve!_

* * *

"So".

"So".

"Betty, you look really different".

"Considering that the last time you saw me before tonight, I was on crutches with a head like a mushroom, I'm not all that surprised".

"No, I mean you look _really_ different … you've lost your braces, and your glasses are new … You look – you look amazing".

"Thanks".

Silence.

"Matt, what do you want? Why are you here? How did you find out where I live?"

"Well, I can answer question 3 really easily – I got your address from Amanda. Questions 1 and 2, also easy – I want … I want you, Betty. That's why I'm here".

"Matt, we were over a long time ago. When you got on that plane to Africa."

"But Betty, I still love you. I never stopped loving you. Every night as I lay under my mosquito net, all I could think of was you. Oh, and I don't mean because of, you know, the UN photo-shoot".

"Did it not occur to you that I might have stopped loving _you_?"

Matt looked despondent. "I guess not".

Betty softened. "Matt, I'm sorry, but Daniel was right. I _have_ moved on".

She took the bouquet from Matt's hand. "But thank you – these are lovely".

Betty went to find another vase for the flowers and then carefully placed it next to the gerbera daisies. In comparison to Daniel's posy, Matt's roses looked monstrous and gaudy.

"Was _I_ right too?" said Matt petulantly, "Are you two sleeping together now?"

Betty's face darkened. "Who I choose to sleep with is no longer any of your business, Matt. But no, we're not sleeping together".

"But you _want_ to", Matt persisted, only to be met by a slap from Betty, who then clasped her hands to her mouth, horrified at what she'd done.

"I ... I didn't mean to do that, Matt. I'm just so confused right now".

"It's ok. I probably deserved that. You … you love him, don't you?"

Betty looked down at her hands and then began to fiddle with the sash at her waist.

"Honestly, I don't know. I know that I've been feeling differently around him."

"I always knew this would happen, you know. There was always a vibe between you".

"Vibe, what vibe? Matt, now you're not making any sense".

"Come on, Betty. Be honest – you've always been Daniel's girl in one way or another."

Betty was silent – she couldn't really argue with that.

"You know there was even a pool on at MODE about when you two would finally get together. I said within a year of my leaving for Africa", Matt laughed and scratched the back of his head. "Maybe I should go claim my winnings".

"I didn't know that", Betty stuttered.

"We kept it pretty quiet. Anyway, I think I ought to go before I make an even bigger fool of myself".

Matt got up. "By the way, did you know how much it costs to repair a dinosaur's tail? Thank God Daniel has to pay for half. It was good seeing you, Betty. Keep the flowers".

And before Betty could protest, Matt stole a kiss and walked out the door.

xXxXx

Moments later, the phone rang. "Mija, I have something to tell you. Now, don't go getting mad, but I'm moving to California to be with Elena".

"Papi! Boy, am I glad to hear your voice. I've had a really weird day. And why would I be mad? I love Elena".

"Good, that's good to hear. Don't get me wrong, we still want to get married, but she can't get any time off any time soon and I'll have to find a job and, well, you know how it is. You're still coming home for Christmas though? I'll be here – I'm not planning to move till the New Year and I want my family around me."

"Yes, Papi, I got my ticket already-" _Beep_. "Papi, hold on a second, there's someone on the other line".

"Betty, dear". It was Claire Meade. "What fresh idiocy has my son committed now?"

"Mrs Meade… Claire! Hi! What makes you say that?"

"_Please_, Betty. As you're well aware, I would kill for that boy, but he's been a liability ever since I ripped him screaming from my womb. I just tried to speak to him, but couldn't quite tell if he'd been crying or become acquainted with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

He _did_, however, mumble your name a number of times, so can I at least apologise on his behalf for whatever it is he did or didn't do to you?"

"Seriously, Claire. Daniel hasn't done anything wrong. Well, apart from help destroy a priceless exhibit. Never mind. It's just been a really long day. It's nice to hear from you".

"It's good to speak to you too, sweetheart. Listen, Betty. Please try to remember that Daniel always _means_ well, even if it doesn't quite translate. I'll leave you in peace now, but one last thing. I love you, dear. Not _all_ of us Meades are afraid to say so".

And with a click, she was gone.

"Papi? Are you still there? Sorry about that – it was Mrs Meade".

"Claire? How's she doing? I think I'm gonna invite her for Christmas – fine lady, but she always looks like she needs feeding up".

"She's okay, Papi – she's just worried about her son".

"The French one who's a woman now?"

"No, the one who's here with me. Daniel".

"Ahh. Daniel. You know I spoke to your sister. She says you might have some news for me? Something about you and Daniel finally seeing eye-to-eye, eh?"

"Hilda has a big mouth".

Ignacio chuckled. "Mija, the first time I met Daniel, I thought he was a _pinche pendejo_, but the way he was with Justin that Christmas, and the way he has always tried to put you first … let's just say you have my blessing. Maybe you can _both_ come home for Christmas?"

"Thank you, Papi", said Betty quietly.

"No problem, Mija. Now get some rest. It must be late over there. I'll see you soon. I love you, Betty".

"I love you too, Papi".

Betty put down her phone gently. Two of the people she cared about the most in the world had just told her that they loved her (obviously Matt wasn't one of them).

Maybe she'd try for a third.


	7. Chapter 7 - Let It Snow

_So here's the final chapter of my story. Thank you for making my first foray into fanfiction such a happy one, and Merry Christmas Everyone!_

* * *

Before she could talk herself out of doing anything stupid, Betty had dialled a cab and was slipping on a pair of sneakers. She wished for a moment that she still had that big, blue puffy overcoat to keep out the chill, but her magenta coat would just have to do.

For the second time that night, Betty found herself sitting in a cab feeling giddy but, this time, only her own thoughts kept her company.

What would she say when she got there? What would she do? And what possible outcome did she want from all of this? She knew she was being impetuous (as always), but going by her gut instinct often proved the best course, and right now Betty's gut was telling her to go see Daniel.

"Come on, come on – mister, is there any chance we could go a little faster?"

"Sorry, love. It's chock-a-block all the way to Knightsbridge. Christmas time, innit? People coming home from parties and such-like. You're very welcome to get out and walk if you like – probably be faster at this rate".

"Fine, I think I will – thank you", and Betty shoved a ten pound note in the cabbie's hand, glad she'd decided to wear her Converse.

Betty ran down the pavement, dodging late night joggers and tipsy office workers alike. Despite her sensible footwear, she nearly slipped on the ice a couple of times, and cursed Daniel for choosing to live uphill. Finally, she found herself outside his block, and she pressed the buzzer to Daniel's flat as snow started to fall softly.

No answer.

"Daniel. I know you're in there", she said into the entry phone. "Let me in".

Still no answer.

"Danieeel? Please let me in. We need to talk".

The speaker crackled into life, but all Betty could make out was "that bastard Hartley" and the door remained closed.

"Daniel Bradford Meade, if you don't let me in right this minute, I will curse you so loud that you'll never be able to show your face in this neighbourhood again. And I know some pretty choice curses".

_Bzzzzzz._ The entry door clicked open.

Number 106. Daniel's flat. Betty rapped sharply on the door. "Let me in, Meade. I'm warning you".

"Don't want to", slurred a voice, ripe with self-pity.

She changed tactic. "Please, Daniel. I have the Expendables 2 right here in my hand" (she didn't). "We can order pizza and and we can watch it to-ge-ther".

The door cracked open a peep, and Betty shoved it open. "Got you now, Meade! Oh. Oh god, Daniel".

Daniel was a state. He was dressed in his Robe of Despair (the one he wore when he was Mr Sickington and when Sofia Reyes dumped him), which was covered in snot and Wotsit crumbs (he'd been briefly devastated to discover that Cheetos didn't exist in the UK, but these were an adequate substitute). His eyes were bloodshot and weepy, and he clutched a bottle of Scotch – Claire had been right on both counts.

His flat was, if anything, in even worse condition. There were empty takeout cartons and dirty laundry everywhere and a distinctly stale odour.

"Daniel, when was the last time you cleaned this place?" said Betty, wrinkling up her nose. "I know I haven't been round here for a couple of weeks, but this is disgusting".

"Thanks Betty. Kick a man when he's down. Where's Fartley? Surely he wants to come laugh at my misery too?" and he took a swig straight from the bottle.

"Matt? Why would he be here? And what was with that display at the Museum earlier – what the hell is wrong with you anyway?"

"What's wrong with _me_? How about _you_ getting back together with the punk who dumped you to find himself?"

"Don't be stupid, Daniel. That ship sailed long ago. What makes you think Matt and I are back together and why do you even care?" she snapped, glaring at him.

Daniel glared right back and jabbed a finger in her direction. "I saw him. And you. You and him. Together. At your flat".

"What? Daniel, were you following him?"

"No", he said sullenly, as he took another swig of Scotch, "I was coming to find you".

Betty hesitated, and then decided to take the (boozy) bull by the horns.

"Daniel, why did you come to London?"

Daniel laughed bitterly. "Like I said, I was coming to find you".

"And? Why did you come to find me?"

Daniel gazed at Betty wistfully. If anything, she looked even more beautiful than usual – face flushed, bosom heaving (why the hell did she always cover it up?), chocolate brown eyes crackling with fire.

He contemplated telling her the truth – that he was mad about her, that he could barely function without her (hence the state of the flat), that he loved her loved her _loved_ her. But, as usual, his courage deserted him and the feeling that he just wasn't good enough for Betty engulfed him, so he took another swig from the bottle and looked away.

Betty stared long and hard at Daniel, and it dawned on her, finally, that, however pitiful Daniel looked, she wanted to be right here. Here with him. With Daniel, and not as his best friend either. She also realised that, as usual, the next step was up to her.

Reminding herself that she was an attractive, intelligent, confident, _fearless_ businesswoman, Betty took a deep breath and said:

"Oh God, I hope I don't live to regret this, but … Daniel, I think I love you. And I think you love me too".

Daniel looked up at Betty in surprise, which turned into confusion, which turned into pure, unadulterated joy. Did she really just say what he'd been longing to hear for so many months? Did Betty love him too?

"Oh Betty, I do love you. I love you _so_ much", he said happily as he dropped the bottle and came towards her, but she immediately held up her arms to ward him off, and said, "Seriously, Daniel. If we're going to do this, you need a shower. A long one. I'm not kidding – you reek".

Daniel laughed and did just as he was told.

xXxXx

As the hot water washed away the fug, Daniel could hardly believe what had just happened. After six months of him completely failing to make a move, Betty had turned around and chosen _him_. Over Hartley. He tried not to feel smug, as he wrapped a thick towel around himself and went back into the lounge.

Betty was gone. So Daniel freaked out. Had he imagined the whole exchange – had Betty been an alcohol-fuelled hallucination? He picked up his phone in a panic and started to dial her cell, when Betty walked in with two cups of coffee.

"Hi. I figured you might need this", she said, as she handed a steaming cup to him.

Daniel looked sheepish. "I thought you'd left".

"I _thought_ about it", Betty said as she nursed her own cup. "Drink your coffee".

Daniel drank without tearing his eyes away from her, as if convinced she would disappear any second. Betty looked down and sipped.

After what seemed like an eternity, Daniel said quietly, "So what happens now?"

"I honestly don't know, Daniel. I mean, going by your last Letter from the Editor, you've felt like this for a while now. This is all new to me", she said, gesturing around her.

Daniel put down his mug, and knelt before her.

"Whoa, you're not going to do anything crazy like propose to me, are you?" Betty said, half-joking.

"No, no, of course not", said Daniel (though a small part of him died inside). "I just … Betty, I know I don't deserve you, but if you just give me a chance, we can make this work. I _love_ you".

"I love you too. But we've always been a team. We're like Laurel and Hardy. Or Cagney and Lacey. Or Starsky and Hutch. We're Betty and Daniel. How _can_ we be involved that way?" and she waved her hands around again.

Daniel captured one of her hands and pressed his lips to it in a soft kiss. "We're Betty and Daniel. And that's why we'll work".

Betty flushed red. "Maybe you could ... maybe you could try that again? But a little higher?"

Daniel's eyes gleamed. "Like here?" he said, and he moved in to kiss her neck.

It was suddenly getting extremely warm. "Maybe even a little higher?" Betty said faintly.

"Like here?" Daniel said, and he moved in to kiss her lips.

xXxXx

A few hours later, after a lot more kissing (although nothing else – she wasn't that kind of girl), 'Betty and Daniel' seemed to make total sense. As the snow continued to fall outside, she lay in his arms on the couch, and they watched the gas fire flicker together as he stroked her hair softly.

"Thank you for not giving up on me, Betty", Daniel whispered into her ear.

But all he received in reply was a gentle snore - Betty had fallen asleep. He kissed the top of her head, so overwhelmed with happiness that it almost scared him.

"Isn't it great, Betty?" he murmured softly to her, remembering the day he first realised he loved her. "That feeling - when everything is right in the world?"

He just hoped she didn't stumble across that diamond ring.


End file.
